


Red Razor Ruin

by thelightofmorning



Series: Burn the Dragonfires Once More [2]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Fantastic Racism, Fuck Dagon, Fuck the Thalmor, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Massacre, Past Violence, Religious Conflict, Sequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 07:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17678672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelightofmorning/pseuds/thelightofmorning
Summary: It has been ten years since Martin Septim died and only a few months since Potentate Ocato was murdered. Agol, the Hero of Kvatch's father, receives a visitor and the chance to strike back at the Prince who cost him his daughter. He also learns who and what she has become.





	Red Razor Ruin

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Thanks for reading and reviewing. Trigger warning for mentions of death, violence, fantastic racism, torture, grief, religious conflict and massacre. Direct sequel to ‘Rage Red Raw’, focusing on Agol and Marius.

 

“She’s vanished, Marius. Just had the baby, waited until he was weaned, and then left us.”

            Agol gro-Mashog poured some ale for his guest, an Altmer whose rounded features and bulky build suggested human blood. Marius Aurelius was a Blade, one of his missing daughter’s best friends, and one who’d fought for his stronghold’s right to raise the boy to know his Orcish blood. The warrior lifted the cup in silent gratitude and drank half of it, golden throat working with more than thirst.

            “Ocato is dead,” Marius said as he lowered the wooden cup. “He was assassinated by an Altmer assassin from a faction known as the Thalmor, one that has arisen in the chaos of the Oblivion Crisis. It wasn’t just Cyrodiil and Skyrim that suffered. Oblivion Gates opened everywhere. Crystal-Like-Law, the Crystal Tower of Alinor, shattered in the conflict and the earthbones grew that little bit weaker.”

            Anghara, Agol’s mother, shifted in her seat. “I have heard of these Thalmor. They would unwind the world and the serpent of time.”

            “You’ve heard correctly, wisewoman.” Marius inclined his head to the old Orcish womer. He didn’t have the arrogance that so many of his ilk possessed. “It gets better. They used this to kill Ocato.”

            He reached into his pocket and pulled out a silk-wrapped knife. It had a crescent-moon quillion, round pommel and jagged blade.

            “Mehrunes’ Razor,” rumbled Anghara. “How did they get it?”

            “They murdered Sidgara,” Marius said grimly. “I… questioned them. Harshly. They confessed to ambushing her in Haemar’s Pass several months ago. No doubt Dagon lent a hand to the deed.”

            “No doubt,” Agol grated. “I liked Sidgara. She’d have made a good chief’s wife.”

            “In a way she was, if you count Talos as a chief,” Marius observed.

            “Speaking of chiefs, will Julius be able to take his throne?” Anghara asked. “He’s young but a good warrior and leader.”

            “I don’t know. Cyrodiil’s in chaos. Father’s died and they raised Baurus to Grand Master. It might be an idea to send Julius off to the lowlands to learn from the Nord Jarls or maybe Jorrvaskr or the Greybeards.” Marius drained his cup dry. “I’m more worried about the Razor, honestly.”

            “I lost my daughter and her man thanks to Dagon,” Agol said flatly. “I’ve a mind to put one in his eye. Let’s see if Malacath would agree.”

            Anghara rose to her feet. “I’ll get the troll fat and Daedra heart. You two prepare yourself for the ritual.”

            Marius didn’t even flinch as Agol painted sacred patterns in mud on his sinewy golden flesh and returned the favour without argument. He’d lost friends and now his father but still soldiered on. Agol could respect that in man or mer.

            Anghara invoked Malacath and soon an Orcish man, twice the size of Agol and purest orichalcum-green, stood before them. Agol inclined his head and Marius bowed slightly. “Prince of the Sworn Oath and the Bloody Curse,” the wisewoman greeted with raised red-stained hands holding the Razor. “I offer to you Mehrunes’ Razor, to break or use as you will.”

            Malacath smiled thinly. “Stained with Altmer blood no less.”

            “It was used to murder Potentate Ocato by Thalmor assassins,” Marius said quietly. “I decided to use it to express my dissatisfaction with the assassins and those who murdered my friend Sidgara.”

            “An Altmer with spine!” Malacath laughed. He hefted the mighty hammer Volendrung thoughtfully. “I’d love to give Mehrunes Dagon one but I’d have to be crazy to do it directly.”

            “Then leave it to me.” A painfully familiar contralto, hoarse and thin, came from the air as Aurelia stepped out of the shadows. “I owe that bastard whole planes of pain.”

            She was still tall and muscular, olive-bronze in colour with close-cropped black hair. Her white armour was the Arena style she’d worn so often during the Oblivion Crisis. But her eyes… Her eyes were pale green and glittered with a febrile light.

            “Madgoddess,” greeted Malacath with something resembling respect. “I’d heard of your victory over Jyggalag but…”

            “Malacath. Half my blood and all my respect is yours,” Aurelia answered. “You need me, give a yell.”

            The Prince of the Spurned and Aurelia clasped hands as equals. “You’re better than the last Madgod. I remember what that prick did to me out of sheer malice.”

            “There was no malice in it. He just thought it would be funny and educational in a warped kind of way,” Aurelia rasped.

            “Granddaughter?” Anghara asked.

            “Grandmother.” For a moment, Aurelia was herself again, smiling crookedly. Then her face sobered. “Julius?”

            “Ten years old now.” Agol found his voice. “Daughter…”

            “The threat’s worse than you realise. The Thalmor want to end the world and they know that if they can taint or destroy the bloodline of Talos, they’ll be halfway there. Julius Martin can never proclaim himself and probably his son and his son’s sons too.” Something sad and desperate peered out of Aurelia’s eyes. “I can’t punch this threat away, Dad. I can’t.”

            “You can deny them one weapon,” Malacath growled, pointing to Mehrunes’ Razor with Volendrung. “Break it into pieces and scatter them among the wastes. I will guard one.”

            “And I will guard another,” spoke an ethereal voice. A ghostly stag-headed man appeared between Malacath and Aurelia. “Forgive me, Malacath, for manifesting in your holy place but I felt it important.”

            “The sheath is already missing,” Marius said quietly. “Dagon will seek to reunite the pieces if you do this.”

            “Of course he will,” Hircine said sardonically. “He will succeed in time. But we can buy ourselves a century or two.”

            Aurelia held out her hand and Malacath handed her Volendrung. One massive blow of the godly hammer and the Razor shattered into three pieces – pommel, hilt and blade-shards. Hircine reached out and chose the pommel while Malacath handed the shards to Agol.

            “I’ll find somewhere for the hilt,” Aurelia promised as she picked it up, having returned Volendrung to Malacath. “Maybe Hjaalmarch. Plenty of weird old things buried there.”

            “Can’t you stay for a bit? Julius Martin loves to hear all the stories about you,” Anghara said.

            Aurelia shook her head. “Believe me, he’s better off with you. The Shivering Isles are no place for a child. Tell him… Tell him I’m dead but I did love him.”

            Agol realised he was crying. “Aurelia, child-“

            “I’m sorry, Da. I’m a coward. In the Shivering Isles, I can pretend _he_ is with me.” Aurelia turned from him. “I’m sorry. I’m not brave enough to live in a world that doesn’t have _him_.”

            It would be the last Agol saw his daughter in life or death. But he and his sons and their sons kept the shards of Mehrunes’ Razor as a sacred trust and a twisted keepsake. For the Madgoddess was half of their blood and all of their kin.


End file.
